


Off The Rack

by neotericbitch



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Gen, but regardless of their relationship status they're both all for our leads together, featuring ocs who may or may not be involved. we don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 05:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13943268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neotericbitch/pseuds/neotericbitch
Summary: "People associate the black coat with the fledgling - and the red coat with the worldbreaker. So it’s time to find a new kind of jacket."Valkyrie gets herself fitted for some new clothes. There's a guy living in the walls of a department store. Skulduggery wears a handsome face and becomes very briefly obsessed with the colour green.





	Off The Rack

**Author's Note:**

> we're starting to hit the valdug beats

Valkyrie adores the clothes Ghastly made for her, and they’re still good for the occasional wear, but facts are facts. She’s stopped growing now she thinks, but in her five years away her body had spat out the last of her height, and the sleeves are just too tight on her muscled arms. That, and it’s also worth considering that she can’t go around wearing the same style of clothing she decided on as a child. She needs a change to reflect that  _she_  has changed, as well as one that will have her looking more like an equal rather than just feeling like one.

Skulduggery has always made it clear that he considers Valkyrie to be a peer, an equal, on his level, and for a time that was enough. But it’s not really anymore. People need to look and see,  _know_  that they’re equals, that she’s a strong person in her own right and not a fledgling tailing after the great Skeleton Detective anymore. People associate the black coat with the fledgling - and the red coat with the worldbreaker. So it’s time to find a new kind of jacket.

She needs the good shit. Armoured, better than anything else. The kind of thing Ghastly himself would recommend if he were out of the picture. Which - he is.

She doesn’t have Ghastly for recommendations, but she has his best friend, and his best friend has a designer who can create the closest thing that will fit her needs - and his - all set up in Roarhaven, who he spent the better part of 18 months finding. Matt Sterling. Wildly expensive. Semi-regularly commissioned to add to the Supreme Mage’s wardrobe. Former excavator, parting with whatever gem they can bear to make already beautiful jewelry all the more so.

Sterling had somewhat of a presence in the mortal runway scene, always downplaying their abilities to match the designers around them as to not draw too much attention. It doesn’t have to be that way in Roarhaven, but the lay sorcerer still tends to keep their clothing business elsewhere. That suits Sterling fine enough - it means they get to hang around their lavish penthouse studio and think up new creations for rich mortals to buy and then never wear.

At least people in magical society actually use the clothes they pay through the nose to own. But there are only three who are all but contractually obliged to dress exceedingly stylishly while doing their dangerous jobs. Valkyrie is surprised to learn that she’s the third person.

The biggest downside, Skulduggery sounds heartbroken to report to her, is that unlike Ghastly’s clothes, they can crease.

“You  _do_  know how to iron, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I can help if you like.”

“I’m an adult, Skulduggery. I iron all the time.”

“My god. You have changed.”

No need to draw unnecessary attention while in the department store that makes up the first five floors of the building, so Skulduggery wears a face that Valkyrie is pretty sure he knows is handsome before he’s even seen it. But a good-looking man isn’t much of a reason to gawk when compared to a skeleton, so - perspective is important. **  
**

Skulduggery strides on through the front doors with so much purpose that the attendants are almost repelled. Valkyrie, on the other hand, is a magnet, and manages to follow perfectly at his side. On the way to the lifts, she can’t help but flinch when a mannequin turns its head at her.

“Jesus!” she hisses, then feels a little laugh start to ripple. “Oh, wow. Why would you even design it to do that. Christ.”

“They double as remotely-controlled security cameras,” says Skulduggery. “You only caught someone’s eye.”

“Oh,” says Valkyrie quietly, falling back in step beside him.

The couple they end up catching the lift with get off at the third floor, and only after the doors are shut does Valkyrie speak again, asking more about Sterling.

“Born 1870 outside Paris, so obviously not a participant in the war,” begins Skulduggery, and Valkyrie wonders if there’s anyone these days whose life story he doesn’t know. “Like our departed friend Sanguine, Sterling is an Elemental who chose to devote their magic to only one element - fire, in their case. They can manipulate it into a more liquid form and congeal it to create what amounts to lava. Just about every piece of jewelry they’ve ever created was shaped with their bare hands.”

“How romantic,” Valkyrie says flatly as the doors reopen on the fifth floor.

“Indeed.”

She very quickly figures out that, in contrast to the selection on the other floors being made up of multiple brands, the fifth floor is all from Sterling, all neatly gridded up into kind and style and colour. Now that she knows better, she notices the more subtle movements that the mannequins make, not just at her, but at everyone.

Although - “everyone” implies that there’s more than a dozen people on the whole floor, counting the couple of attendants littered about. Must be the price tag that scares most mages off, even the ones who have been smart enough to amass their wealth in their time spent alive.

Valkyrie knows she’s here for clothes, but knowing about Sterling’s magical discipline draws her over to the nearest glass case, and as she looks down at the intricate necklaces within, she tries to imagine what it would be like to twist the silver like that herself. She crouches to get a better look at the tiny details in the band of a black gold ring. Sigils that double as decoration, probably - and that reminds her that China Sorrows owns Sterling jewelry. Does she send a consultant to help with the sigil carving, or does Sterling have their own guy for that?

A better question, it occurs to Valkyrie, is  _would_  China send someone to help?

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Valkyrie catches the attendant’s reflection before straightening up and looking her in the face. She has pink eyes and, speak of the devil, a charm that most certainly would have gotten Valkyrie to look dreamily at her if she wasn’t used to much stronger magic from China. In any case, it must be a good deterrent for shoplifters.

“Just looking, thanks. Though - could you point me in the direction of the jackets?”

“I’ll walk you there.”

The small edge to her voice rings bells to Valkyrie that the attendant doesn’t like that her spell hasn’t done anything. Valkyrie catches Skulduggery pretending that he’s not looking at ties as she passes, makes motions in the direction she’s being led so he’ll know where to find her.

They get to the desired section, but while a particular rack catches Valkyrie’s eye, the attendant keeps going in the direction of the coats similar in design to the ones she once wore.

“Actually,” she says, stopping the attendant short, “thanks, I’ll just - I’m gonna go over there.”

The attendant looks at her, glances back at the coats - settles back on Valkyrie. “You  _are_  Miss Cain, aren’t you?”

“Detective,” says Valkyrie. “And it’s okay, you don’t have to, uh, be polite and pretend you don’t…recognise…me…”

“Gosh,” the attendant replies, the edge getting sharper. “That’s an awfully conceited thing to say to a perfect stranger.”

“Yeah, I…realised that as I was saying it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it like that. I just meant - everyone knows my face.”

“Mm. We’ve all seen it. On Darquesse.”

“Yeah.”

Her tone turns bright when she speaks next, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, or any part of her face or stance at all. “Suppose I’ll leave you then?”

Valkyrie tries to thank her and apologise at the same time, but the attendant has already disappeared behind a corner in between somewhat startled blinks. This is an exchange she will spend all night trying not to think about. She goes to the blazers, feels fabric between her fingertips. Goes looking for dress shirts on her own.

“Valkyrie, I’m both proud and disappointed,” Skulduggery says from behind her, waits for her to turn before speaking again. Still got the nice face on, even though Valkyrie’s pretty sure they’re the only non-employees here now. “But before I tear into you, tell me - is this too much?”

He shows her a dark green tie with a thorny pattern to it, like some sort of rosebush that’s missing the roses and decided to make up for it with more thorns.

“For you, maybe. You’re not much of a green guy.”

“I recycle.”

Valkyrie bites the inside of her mouth, but the smile fights to be free harder than she tries to keep it down. “What have I done wrong?”

“Ah, ah - I’m starting with what you’ve done right. That way you’ll feel worse when I tell you what you’ve done wrong.” He gestures at the black blazer slung over her forearm and at her hand hovering tentatively at a white button-up in one motion. “I’m so proud - dare I say chuffed, perhaps even flattered - that you have finally decided to follow in my fashionable footsteps.”

“Bloody hell, Skulduggery, look at this thing.” Valkyrie shakes her arm while keeping the jacket steady to the best of her ability. “This isn’t your style. It’s mine. Close enough to you so people will know we’re partners, different enough for me to be independent.”

Skulduggery opens his mouth, probably to make fun of her, but stops. Thinks for a second, clearly reevaluating, then speaks. “And it will do the job perfectly,” he says, freeing the blazer from her arm and checking its tag. “But now here’s the part where I tell you why I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed, Valkyrie, because you seem to be under the impression that you’re just going to pick what you like and buy it.”

“I told you I’m paying–”

“Why would I ever,” he says loudly, going right over her, “let you buy off the rack?”

Valkyrie blinks. “What?”

“You’re getting this,” he lifts the blazer, “made for you.”

Pause. “What,” she repeats.

“You’re picking the design you want, Valkyrie, not the actual item. Sterling is going to fit you and make your clothes once we’re done here.” Skulduggery places the thorny tie over the blazer. “And I’m getting myself some new clothes as well. I’ve decided to go green just to spite you.”

“Oh my god.”

Skulduggery shrugs. “I’ve been more spiteful.”

“No I mean oh my god the other thing. Why didn’t you tell me? Do I really need to be fitted? Can’t I just send measurements or something?”

“You know what size shirt you wear, not the exact diameter of your waist in centimeters.”

Valkyrie doesn’t tell him that she doesn’t actually know what shirt size she is, she just eyeballs it and hopes for the best. He probably knows that already anyway and doesn’t want to embarrass her in front of the mannequins.

He’s oddly sincere when he speaks next, “I didn’t tell you because I thought we were on the same page. You and I, we’re important and stylish people. We get fitted and have our clothes made for us.”

“You don’t gain or lose weight,” Valkyrie points out. “You don’t need to be fitted.”

“No,” Skulduggery admits, “but it’s nice to be looked after.”

“God. You’re ridiculous.”

“Very. As are you.”

She doesn’t disagree.

Valkyrie picks out the shirt design she likes most and recites a number on the tag to Skulduggery, then she goes off to the trouser section while he points out every green article of clothing he can see. She eventually gives in and lets herself be amused, spies an emerald ring hidden behind a thick glass case and dares him to get it. It’s getting easier for her to slip back into being her old self. She can go back easier, stay longer, and her heart is light and mind free.

The floor manager instinctively knows when to come over to them and escort them to a private elevator that will bring them up to the studio. His charm is natural and he compliments Skulduggery on the good face just before he deactivates it.

The penthouse is on the eighth floor, and the lift doors open up to a lobby-type area and a rock’n’roll playlist coming in through wall-mounted speakers. It’s not the atmosphere Valkyrie expected, but not unwelcome. There are cushioned benches set near the lift and double doors before them, and just as Valkyrie is about to ask Skulduggery what’s going to happen next the doors open, revealing a long hallway that apparently leads into every other room on the floor.

“Valkyrie Cain,” says the woman at the door, coming forward and shaking her hand. She’s English, and her accent reminds Valkyrie of Tanith. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ciel, Matt’s assistant. Mr Pleasant,” she adds, nodding at Skulduggery.

“Hi,” Valkyrie says eloquently.

“Sly sent up the samples designs you picked,” Ciel goes on, leading them down the hall, “so why don’t you try those on to be doubly sure that that’s what you want?”

She stops at a door and presses on it one-handedly, and it slides open to a big open room, a small circular platform sitting right in the centre, a semi-circle of mirrors angled all around it. On one of the walls a curtain is pulled back to reveal a changing area, and benches that match the ones out at the lift sit up at every other wall. The music is playing in here, too.

Valkyrie looks at Skulduggery. He opens her arm at her, so she goes in before him after Ciel. Ciel hands over the folded blazer, shirt and trousers that Valkyrie handed over to the floor manager not even five minutes ago. She doesn’t say anything about that, just goes over to the changing area and pulls the curtain closed. There’s a speaker in here so it’s not easy to hear Skulduggery and Ciel talking while she gets undressed, but she manages.

“So. The usual for you, just in green, is that right?”

“And this tie.”

“And that tie.” Valkyrie can hear the nod in Ciel’s voice. “I’ll go fetch the artist shortly. Matt was so happy to get your call.”

“Most people are.”

“Not because of  _you_ , Mr Pleasant, for Ms Cain. But you knew that, didn’t you? They’ve wanted to meet her ever since they heard she was back. Fascinating specimen, she is. Those are my words, not theirs. You’ll hear those soon enough.”

Skulduggery says nothing to that. Valkyrie does up the last of the buttons and decides for good that eyeballing her size is an extremely unsustainable practice. The shirt is a little too tight and the blazer is a little too big, but she doesn’t look like a disaster. She puts her flats back on and emerges from behind the curtain.

Ciel’s smile is wide as she openly looks Valkyrie up and down. Skulduggery is motionless.

“What do you think, Ms Cain?” asks Ciel.

“Well, I mean. Once I have the version that actually fits me it’ll be perfect.”

“So you’re all set on the look?”

“Yeah. Yes. Thanks.”

“Good news all round, then. I’ll be back with Matt in a minute.”

Ciel leaves, shutting the door behind her. Skulduggery takes off his hat and puts it down on the nearest bench with his new terrible thorny tie. Valkyrie shifts her weight onto one foot, then the other.

“I’m not hoping for a compliment or anything,” she says after a moment, “but I expected more than, y’know - silence.”

Still nothing, though his skull is halfway turned to her.

“What do you think? Does this suit me? Do I look stupid? Silence means I look stupid. No - no, you’re right. God. I don’t know what I was thinking. The old outfit - that’s what people think of when they think of me. When they’re not thinking of a murderer, that is.” Her laugh is strangled. “And I’m - I’m betraying Ghastly, aren’t I? I am.” She puts her hands over her face. “What was I thinking? This is–”

“Valkyrie,” says Skulduggery. “You’re not betraying him.”

“But–”

“I tracked Sterling down because Ghastly had spoken of them positively to me. He wouldn’t…” He abandoned that sentence and went again. “You wouldn’t say  _I_  was betraying him, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not. Exactly. You’re getting new clothes, Valkyrie, that’s all.”

She keeps her hands on her cheeks as her face reddens and her palms get sweaty. “I just…I just miss him.”

“I know,” says Skulduggery gently, taking half a step forward. “So do I.”

The door opens back up and Skulduggery aborts the movement. A figure of Valkyrie’s height enters with Ciel coming behind them, the music lowering but not stopping as they come in.

Sterling’s hair is pulled tight off their face, eyes wide and bright but also ringed with dark circles. They’re chubbier than Valkyrie expected and not fully a picture of what she imagines the typical fashion designer to look like, and she is immediately aware that that’s a perception she can do away with. She’s prepared for a handshake, not the hands on her shoulders and light peck on either side of her face.

French. Right. She’d forgotten.

…Probably another perception she can do away with.

“Valkyrie!” Sterling cries like they’re old friends. “I’m charmed! Blown away! Matt Sterling - though I’m sure you’ve guessed as much.”

“Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, my friend,” says Sterling, turning towards Skulduggery, and for a fleeting moment Valkyrie really wants to see them try to kiss him too, but no such attempt is made.

“We’re not friends,” Skulduggery responds friendlily.

“Of course not. So you want green, then? Not your colour. No matter!” Sterling picks up a set of colour swatches from the cart that Ciel has wheeled into the room and idly flicks it over to Skulduggery, knowing full well that he’ll easily catch it. “I can make it, and you can make it work. Now Valkyrie. Look at you! Doesn’t that outfit suit you? You’re a vision. Ciel, doesn’t it suit her?”

“It does.”

“The one I create for you will suit you even better. But that comes later.” Sterling picks up a measuring tape next. “Down to your underclothes and up on the podium, please.”

Valkyrie can’t help but remember that Ghastly could tell her measurements just by looking. She takes the blazer off with ease, but her hand hesitates at the first button of the blouse. She’s well aware that both Sterling and Ciel probably catch the half second of a glance she shoots in Skulduggery’s direction. He’s sitting down next to his hat and looking at the most hideous greens she’s ever seen.

When they see her arm tattoo, Sterling starts talking about it. Tells her it’s clearly been inked by an expert, unsurprised to hear it was China. They admire the high clerics who designed it, wish that they could have met them or if at least one of them had left behind an Echo Stone. They briefly pause this line of thinking to notice the faint auxilium on her hip, but only to comment on it. During this line of conversation, it is revealed that Ciel is Sterling’s sigil guy, on top of everything else she does for them.

As Sterling stands on a metal stool, holding the top of the measuring tape while Ciel holds it down at Valkyrie’s feet, they continue on about Necromancers.

“I’m saddened that the Order has almost completely dissolved,” they say, “because at least then I would have known who to go to to ask permission to market Necromancer jewelry. Then again, I didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to create a line of Elemental jewelry, so perhaps I shall bite the bullet and release the collection already.”

“You’ve already made Necromancer jewelry?” asks Valkyrie.

“Forged and carved with sigils specifically to best capture that type of magic, yes madame. Hard to destroy. And then there’s the complementary line for non-Necromancers who simply like the aesthetic. Would you be one of those people, Valkyrie? If my sources and memory are correct, then you dabbled in Necromancy before your Surge. You could be one of the first to own one of my pieces.”

“I…yeah, I did some Necromancy when I was younger, but it just - wasn’t for me.”

“Not from what I heard. Was there not talk of you being the Death Bringer? Before the other one came along.”

“Wasn’t for me as a person.”

“I see, I see. Understood. But if you ever wish to own another black ring, I’ll take your finger size, too.”

“No thanks. Though if you have bracelets I could get a gift for a friend.”

While the tape measure is around her waist and Sterling’s head is ducked, Valkyrie can see Skulduggery in the mirror. He has one leg crossed over the other and is looking at the wall straight across from him, head cocked in the way he puts it when he’s pretending not to be listening in on a conversation.

But that’s the end of the Necromancer talk, and now Sterling is telling her about some of the more interesting gemstones in their personally excavated collection. Not interesting enough for her to be enthralled, and soon enough the measuring is all done.

“I shouldn’t need to sew around you,” says Sterling, “but if I’m wrong at least you’ll be nearby.”

“Nearby?”

Stepping down from the platform, Valkyrie catches Skulduggery looking over. The fact that this is also news to him worries her. But it seems that Sterling didn’t hear her as they hum along to the Wild Cherry song playing faintly from the speakers. Ciel retrieves the swatches and tie from Skulduggery, and he starts to ask her what her boss is talking about when she makes motions that Valkyrie interprets as her saying she’ll explain shortly.

“I shall see you in the morning, Valkyrie,” says Sterling, this time shaking her hand, which she appreciates. “And you too, Skulduggery. Looks like all three of us will be working all night, eh? Please excuse me leaving so quickly. I want to start immediately.”

And with that, they go out the door. Ciel mouths  _five minutes_  at Valkyrie and Skulduggery, and follows behind Sterling with the cart. The music shuts off for good.

Valkyrie stands there for a moment, not sure what to do at first. Get dressed again. Yeah, that’s a good idea. As she heads back to the changing area, she throws over her shoulder, “We have a job to do here?”

Skulduggery comes over to her side of the room so they don’t have to shout across it at one another. Stands outside the curtain that Valkyrie only half-shuts, aware that there’s not much of a point to a separate place to get changed given that she’d ended up standing out there in her underwear anyway. “Evidently,” he offers. “Though I wouldn’t have parked in a 3-hour space if I had been privy to that information.”

Valkyrie laughs as she pulls her shirt over her head. “Yes you would’ve.”

“Yes,” Skulduggery agrees. “I would have.”

“Sterling is…interesting.”

“Not what you expected?”

“No,” says Valkyrie, hopping back into her shoes and out from behind the curtain. “But that’s not a bad thing.”

“I find that it rarely is,” Skulduggery says. “People can surprise you for the better.”

“Mm. You do that.”

He tilts his head at her. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Not every day, but you know.”

“Yes, I do know. You do it too.”

Valkyrie looks up from her shoes to him. Whatever it is she was going to say is dashed upon the rocks as Ciel reenters.

“Come along,” she says, voice lowered slightly. “I’ll explain on the way.”

And explain she does, taking the lift down one floor with them. But first she is apologetic on the behalf of the head of security, who she states probably will not apologise himself, that the job request hadn’t been delivered to them sooner. There’s someone in the walls of the department store, travelling between the second and fourth floor, who shuffles around during the day and comes out onto one of the floors during the night. Whatever stock is still left out ends up being taken by them, and their figure has been caught by unmanned mannequins for the past three nights. The first night, the second floor - second night the third floor, and last night the fourth.

The head of security takes over the story once the three of them reach him and the wall of camera feeds. The usual night guard who watches the cameras is incompetent and cowardly - and he smacks the guard upside the head as he says so - and had made no attempt to confront the fiend these past few nights, and so the plan had been to call the City Guard to deal with it tonight. But that was before learning that Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain had booked an appointment with Matt Sterling up in his penthouse just before closing hours.

“They’ll strike again tonight on the fifth floor,” says the head of security. “So you two will stay here and watch for them, and when they show up, you’ll do something about it.”

“You sound quite certain that all of what you’ve just said will happen,” replies Skulduggery.

“Are you refusing to help?”

“I’m saying that it’s awfully presumptuous of you to think we have nothing better to do.”

The head of security’s mouth is a tight line. “And do you?”

Skulduggery is silent for a moment. “No.” He turns to Valkyrie. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Then it looks like we’re working tonight.”

“And we’ll be paying them for their services, won’t we, Cave?” asks Ciel, somewhat authoritatively.

“I don’t know, Ciel, I’m not in charge of that.”

“True, but–”

“My car is parked in a 3-hour space,” says Skulduggery. “I’d like to not have a note on my windshield when I return to it. Valkyrie? Do you have any demands to make?”

Valkyrie is still wondering how a person got in the walls in the first place. “No. I don’t.”

And so the negotiations are concluded.

Ciel wishes them goodnight and good luck, and disappears back into the lift that takes her back up to the penthouse. The head of security points out which screens pertain to which floor, apparently unaware that they’re all labelled. Closing time was five minutes ago, and through the nonexistent eyes of the mannequins on the first floor Valkyrie can see dawdling customers being desperately shoved out the front doors.

The most certainly cowardly but only allegedly incompetent night guard shows her to the coffee machine. Everyone else is packing up and leaving, and soon enough they join in. Valkyrie tells them she hopes they enjoy their night off, and they look like no one has ever said that to them before.

Not long goes by before they have the keys to the place and are watching the last janitor leaving out a back door. The security room is dark, the panelled walls backlit with blue that reminds Valkyrie somewhat of an aquarium. She stretches her legs and puts them up on the control panel, sitting back as far as her chair will allow. Skulduggery isn’t even looking at the screens on the wall, rather the one on his phone.

“This isn’t really how I expected things to go tonight,” says Valkyrie at last.

“Is it a surprise for the better?”

Out of the corner of her eye she can see he’s still looking at his phone. “Too early to say, but I’m not holding out hope. How do you think… How do you think someone got in the walls?”

“Now that I can’t say for sure,” says Skulduggery, “but I can tell you how they’re travelling.”

“The elevator shaft.”

He looks at her with his head tilted in her favourite way. She doesn’t fully know why it’s her favourite, or rather, how one kind of tilt can be different to or more special than another, but that’s just how it is. That’s how it’s been for many years.

“Well,” says Valkyrie. “Even if this is a weird direction we’ve taken, thanks for bringing me here. I think I… I’m feeling a bit better about the whole thing. I like what I chose and I missed having something made for me. I just wish things could be different. Wish we still had…”

The silence hangs and Valkyrie takes her feet down from the panel. She sits up a little, but not perfectly straight. Skulduggery puts his phone away, and reaches over and pats her hand where it’s resting on her knee - then he withdraws and looks at the screens. Valkyrie places her other hand over where he pat her and holds like that for the longest time.

In an hour and a half her eyes hurt and she’s yawning. Skulduggery doesn’t even have to offer to watch without her - she just moves her chair closer to his and falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move an inch.

* * *

Her dreams are bad and writhe with events that have not happened, events she worries could happen, and she desperately hopes that this is not how her Sensitive abilities have chosen to naturally manifest themselves. She’s somewhat lucid. Completely aware that she is dreaming, but unable to influence her own actions, trapped in her imagined body. It’s like when she was lying dead in Nye’s warehouse, it still feels real, and it wouldn’t take a lot to let go.

Valkyrie blinks a lot as she repeats her name to herself in her waking mind, reminding herself of what she has to live for and could never leave behind. Feels cold sweat running down her neck beneath her hair, down her back beneath her shirt. At the moment, dying is completely out of the question, but it seems that tonight is one of those nights where she wakes up and wants to run away again. Disappear right off the grid and this time, do it better - this time, never come back.

Skulduggery’s shoulder is digging into her cheek. She doesn’t think she could leave him again. No, actually she’s certain. She won’t.

They could leave together, though. That’s a thought - and a selfish one at that. It’s really quite terrible. Because sitting here, thinking about it as hard as she can as the images on the screens turn crisp, she thinks that maybe if she suggested it, there’s a chance he wouldn’t refuse. Of course Valkyrie knows he’s not the type to run, and there’s things to be done that he - she, the both of them - can’t just leave. Things they can’t, but he  _would_ , leave if she asked.

…Probably.

Skulduggery knows she’s awake, and she knows he knows because he’s checking the time so he’ll be ready to tell her when she eventually asks.

“What’s the time?” Valkyrie eventually asks.

“Past two,” Skulduggery tells her. “No sign of our friend in the walls as of yet.”

“Oh good,” she mumbles, climbing up out of her seat and lumbering off to the coffee machine. “I’d hate to miss the action.”

Waiting for the machine to whirr to life, she wipes the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve before rolling both of them up. It’s not even that hot, she tells herself - as if that’s going to help at all. Well, worth a try anyway, because the coffee isn’t going to do her any favours. Valkyrie isn’t much of a fan of energy drinks, but at least they’re cold. Even a Coke would be welcome.

Her stomach rumbles and a low groan escapes her throat. Should have eaten lunch today. Yesterday. Whichever.

“I’m hungry,” she announces when she returns to her seat.

“So I heard,” says Skulduggery.

“Before you tell me I can’t go get anything, I already know. Using the staff elevator alone’ll tip bloody Nightcrawler off.” Valkyrie sips her coffee and is almost upset at how it’s still better than the swill she makes at home. “And once I’ve finished this sentence I’ll be done talking about it entirely - but god damn, I could eat anything.”

“You’re welcome to gnaw on my bones if things get dire.”

She chuckles into her paper mug, but as promised, no more is said on the matter.

It’s an hour later and Valkyrie is trying different Instagram filters on pictures of Xena when Skulduggery gently taps her arm. She looks up and sees one of the fifth floor screens showing the lift doors being pried open from the inside. For a split second they’re wide open, and that’s just long enough for a dark figure to roll out onto the tiled floor. As they get to their feet, Valkyrie identifies the thing hanging off their shoulders as being a leopard-patterned shawl. The rest of them is covered in a tight bodysuit that looks like it was taken from a special effects studio.

Nothing loose has been left out on the fifth floor, nothing of worth that can just easily be picked up - unless the intruder is interested in the wire coat hanger sitting on one of the desks. Most of the glass jewelry cases still contain their stock, mostly because it’s a hassle even for the employees to get them out. One would think that that would be enough of a deterrent to make the intruder not even bother, but after running a few laps around the floor with their arms spread wide and shawl flapping behind them, they stop to inspect one of the cases.

“Good news, Valkyrie,” says Skulduggery as they head toward their lift. “They’re mad. This will be very easy.”

“Oh grand,” she tries.

“Now,” he goes on, “unless they have heightened hearing, now that they’re out of the walls we should be able to travel down undetected. However if I’m right - and I always am - we’ll be coming out on the south wall, and they’re currently situated in the northeast corner. Stealth may have to be employed to get close and apprehend them.”

“You could just fly across.”

“We’re not cheaters, Valkyrie.”

“I am.”

“Yes,” he says as the doors open and they get in. “I know.”

Valkyrie feels as if she’s been struck, and it must be written across her face, because when the doors close again Skulduggery doesn’t hit a button.

“I meant with fighting,” she says, quieter than intended.

“So did I,” he replies. “What did you–” His head tilts back a little. “I would never say anything of the sort to you in that context.”

“No, no - of course you wouldn’t. I’m not even– I don’t–” Valkyrie takes a breath. Closes her eyes a moment, opens them again. “I don’t even know where that came from. It’s fine, I’m fine. Let’s go.” She presses the button for the fifth floor.

Sensing that she means it and that a quip would be welcome, Skulduggery offers, “Not that you have anyone to cheat on to begin with.”

“Well,” says Valkyrie and immediately stops.

The doors open up to darkness. They hear the faint tapping of a covered fingernail against thick glass. Skulduggery doesn’t yet click his fingers, just peeks out from the tiny hall that hides the staff lift from the rest of the floor to check that his calculations were correct and the intruder is where they’re supposed to be. And they are. Just tapping away at the glass case. He pulls back inside.

“Well what?” he asks, voice lowered.

“Well what what?” argues Valkyrie, voice strangled.

Skulduggery is quiet as he snaps his fingers and summons a flame into his gloved hand. His jaw shifts like he’s considering speaking again, but he decides against it and heads back out. He goes right while she heads left, turning on her aura-vision as she does so. The orange glow of the intruder from across the room acts as a target as she creeps along the walls.

An upside to her aura-vision is that only she has it, and the intruder can’t catch glimpses of silver and red approaching from either side. What they can glimpse, however, is a reflected flicker of fire in the glass case, and their head snaps right up in Skulduggery’s direction. The flame snuffs out immediately and Skulduggery is very still for a moment, almost as if he’s trying to blend in next to the nicely-dressed mannequin next to him. Valkyrie takes this opportunity to quicken her pace.

“Mannequins don’t wear hats,” the intruder says loudly. They unwind their presumably stolen shawl from their shoulders and set it down in a bundle on top of the glass case, but they stay where they are for now.

“They do on this floor,” says Skulduggery.

“Why are you the only one wearing one, then?”

“I’m ahead of the curve.” He takes a step forward. “What are you?”

“A denizen of the walls,” the intruder declares, unintimidated. They go to the desk closest to them, but Valkyrie remains on course. “I rule the foundations of every building I inhabit. I sneak in the shadows and do as I please.”

“Ah yes,” says Skulduggery. “I’m familiar with your kind, though I’m afraid it’s under a different name. Would you like to hear what it is, what we call you instead? Rats.”

“I told you what I am. What are you?”

Another step forward and a sliver of moonlight coming in from a window illuminates his skull. Very flashy. “An exterminator.”

The intruder dives over the desk, tucking and rolling and leaping back up onto their feet on the other side, now clutching the wire coat hanger in their raised hand, brandishing it like a weapon. The problem is that they’re holding it by the hook, so it cannot possibly work as one. “You don’t frighten me!” they shriek.

Valkyrie is standing right behind them. Her aura-vision shuts off as her hand starts to crackle with white sparks, and she simply reaches over the intruder’s shoulder - and she touches the coat hanger. The electricity runs straight back down the intruder’s arm and through their body, and once they’re done jittering, they drop to the ground, knocking their elbow on the desk as they go down.

“I told you it would be easy,” Skulduggery says as he comes over.

“I never disagreed,” replies Valkyrie.

They loop the bound handcuffs around a pole on the first floor, where the unconscious intruder will stay until morning, and they head out and walk two blocks to get Valkyrie something to eat. She’s already finished one of her burgers by the time they’re coming back through the front doors. She finishes eating eating and watches, from the mild discomfort of the security room, Skulduggery folding the leopard shawl on the fifth floor. With the lift parked there from their return, he can’t investigate the shaft, but she doesn’t doubt he’ll get to it eventually.

For now, though, he rejoins her in front of the screens to wait out what little is left of the night.

“You still haven’t told me what you think of the outfit,” says Valkyrie.

“I’m saving it,” says Skulduggery.

“You’re killing me here.”

“Well, I did promise it would be special.”

She looks at him. He tilts his head.

“Not something to joke about?”

“No,” she says slowly, “it’s okay to joke about. I just really want to hear what you think.”

“I can’t tell you what I think until I’ve seen you in your new clothes.”

“Oh my god. The samples are the same thing.”

Skulduggery looks away from her and back to the screens. “Not to me.”

Valkyrie wonders why he has to be like this for several hours. She keeps wondering as she rides the lift back up to Sterling’s penthouse, as Ciel hands her a folded pile and directs her back behind the curtain, and as she does up the last button leading up the notched collar of the shirt.  _Her_  shirt.

Slipping her jacket on with ease, she stays behind the curtain a moment longer than she needs to, so she can be the first to really get a good look at herself. She looks - and it feels sort of silly to use the term - grown up. She’s been an adult for years, of course, but the timing of her Surge will keep her looking like she’s hovering on the edge of 20 for the foreseeable future. However, wearing these clothes, Valkyrie looks and feels the furthest from a besotted teen she’s ever looked and felt. And maybe, if she were walking down the street, the first thing someone saw her as wouldn’t be a monstrous mass-murderer, but just some nicely-dressed woman going about her business.

A wooden case containing different ties has been left here for her to find. Valkyrie looks between herself and the contents of the box. A tie would be way too much, she thinks. It would just get people thinking that she wants even more so to be a Skulduggery clone. But she does pick up a bow tie.

Valkyrie flips up her collar and wraps the red fabric around her neck and then - stops. She doesn’t tie it up. She turns her collar back down and smooths it out. The untied bow tie adds something she can’t quite describe, a dash of colour, a professional sort of untidiness that pulls the whole thing together. Hopefully it looks deliberate enough so that no one will attempt to tie it up for her when she reveals herself.

Ciel makes no such attempt, just smiles her wide smile and asks questions, double-checking that everything fits and feels right. Sterling is there for only one minute. They have their fingers curled at their sides as they approach Valkyrie and circle her, prepared to poke and prod and perhaps even admit that a change needs to be made, but nothing like that ever comes. They’re extremely pleased with their work, pleased all the more when Valkyrie thanks them and tells them the truth - that she loves the clothes.

Sterling quickly departs, off to get some sleep to recover from the night’s work. Skulduggery’s suit is promised to be finished by the end of the week, and only then does Valkyrie become completely aware of the fact that Sterling dropped absolutely everything to do this for her.

“No one’s in the store yet,” says Ciel as she walks them to the lift one last time, “but I can turn on one of the fifth floor registers from up here so you can go pay.”

“No problem,” says Valkyrie. “Thanks, Ciel.”

“Thank  _you_ , Ms Cain. I hope to see you again! Mr Pleasant - I can do with or without you.”

The fifth floor is just how they left it, with sunlight now beginning to stream through the tall windows. Valkyrie swipes her credit card on a lit register and finds a plastic bag to shuffle her shirt and jeans into. She’ll be walking out of here in the new style she’s chosen for herself. It’s kind of thrilling.

Skulduggery is standing in the middle of the floor, pretending there’s lint on his hat that needs brushing off. She knows all his tells. And he knows hers, too, so she doesn’t offer anything to get the ball rolling, just stands a few paces away from him and waits. Eventually he’s happy with the state of his hat and puts it back on his skull. Looks at her.

“You’re positively radiant,” he says.

Valkyrie can’t help but make a face. “I think that’s a bit much. ‘Nice’ would have done it for me.”

“I don’t doubt that. Well - no, I do doubt that a bit. What matters is that ‘nice’ wouldn’t have properly done anything for anyone.” Skulduggery tilts his head and lifts his hand, gesturing at her up and down. “Valkyrie, this is it. This is you, the you that you are now. You found what you were looking for, and now you have it.”

“For the low, low price of sixteen-hundred euro.”

“Exactly.”

Valkyrie’s smile shines through, and she closes the gap between them to give him a one-armed hug. Skulduggery picks her up at the waist, spins her round, and then settles her back down with their positions switched. She hears him try to sneak in a little chuckle beneath her laugh, and she smacks her palm on his shoulder as she withdraws her arm.

“I really am quite happy about this.”

“Of course you are. You finally have your arm candy back. Now you can keep the bad guys distracted.”

“What? No. No, no, Valkyrie. I’m the arm candy.”

“Are you, now?”

“Did you see my face yesterday evening?”

“Aw, it wasn’t that great.”

“You’re lying. You don’t want to admit I can be better-looking.”

“Yeah - can be.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve had some real shockers, Skulduggery.”

“How dare you.”

“How dare  _I?_ ”

They continue like this all the way down to first floor, out to the Bentley where a series of parking tickets await, where they stand and bicker away until City Guard agents finally arrive to collect what had been left for them hours ago - and now that the denizen of the walls is officially no longer their problem, they get in the car and go.

“I only meant it in how you always get pissy when I’m seeing someone,” Valkyrie insists, “and you just about fulfill all the relationship requirements anyway.”

“Of course I do, and of course I get pissy. I know for a fact that if I went out and got myself a romantic partner that you’d never stop complaining about it.”

“In between  _laughing_  about it.”

“Yes, to hide the heartbreak. But you see what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the same, we’re overly attached to one another, all that shit. I just didn’t like the way you implied you didn’t like how I’d put it to begin with.”

“I didn’t dislike it. I do prefer your amendment, however. Fulfilling all the requirements.”

“Just about.”

“We should find a term for it. What will we call it?”

“We’re already partners.”

“Ah, but something entirely unique to us.”

“We already have something like that, Skulduggery. You’re so obsessed with it I can’t believe you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” he says with indignant sincerity. “I wanted you to bring it up first.”

Valkyrie is both highly amused and highly touched by this. She says nothing.

Skulduggery isn’t too proud to cave in first. “Until the end,” he says.

“Until the end,” Valkyrie agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> fic art, get your fic art here,
> 
> https://68.media.tumblr.com/1847ce5fa917c010d249eaaeb05e372e/tumblr_p56fjeHEpl1rhfgs8o1_1280.png


End file.
